


The quiet ones...

by Rainwater_Apothecary



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Just dudes bein friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 12:34:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11161932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainwater_Apothecary/pseuds/Rainwater_Apothecary
Summary: Marco hashadit. Homophobia can bite his ass.





	The quiet ones...

“Jean, would you mind holding this for me? It’ll only be a minute.” The blond man inclined his head absently and took the offered half-finished coffee. The chair beside him sounded as his companion took to his feet, the only sign of his departing presence being his receding warmth on Jean’s shoulder as he leaned forward to better debate which team surely deserved the title.

“Woa! Marco! You get him!” Connie yelled, yanking their table to attention and craning more necks than just the aformentioned’s best friend. 

Over the skin-fade of their cheering companion, Marco Bodt stood, fist clenched, a stunned stranger below that he must have felled. 

Something cold struck Jean in the stomach. 

Marco didn’t just _hit_ people. 

Well, to be fair, it looked a lot more like Marco had just _levelled_ the guy, Jean thought proudly, but still…

“What the hell, man?” The crumpled stranger sounded around the hand held to his jaw. 

“Hold on dude, I’m coming!” Clattering over the back of his chair, Connie Springer threw himself to the shaking man’s side. 

_What the actual hell?_ Jean found Eren’s clenched jaw in his shock. 

“There’s only one thing that would get him that pissed off.” 

“His mom….?” At Jean’s quiery, green eyes searched the middle distance in thought. 

“Alright, two things. But his momma wasn’t mentioned so…’

‘Hey, Marco, Connie….Wait for me!” Eyes flashed and hair flew as he vaulted himself over the table to tear the fallen stranger’s friends from their freckled companion. 

Watching Marco fight was a treat. The man moved like he had been built for the fight and nothing else. Finally, his broad shoulders and arms made strong by pulling Jean out of frays (more than he would like to admit) and lifting those shorter than him (again, more than he would like to count) melded with the peacemaker’s lithe frame. 

The bastards didn’t stand a chance. 

And Jean wasn’t about to ask the reason why his friend was flying off the handle, not when he could be at his partner’s back instead. 

Bony shoulders crashed into those made harder by sinews and muscle as the two boys flattened their blind spots to one another. Jean made a mental note that this was finally a good use for their stupid two inch height difference. He could guard his friend’s neck with his head. 

It’s the little things. 

With dark glares at the approaching mob, the coffee-smeared trio that had made the Bodt’s Most Wanted List took to the hills, each cradling a different body part that corresponded nicely to the fists or, in Connie’s case, forehead, of one or another of the attacking crew. 

“You okay bro?” In the lull that followed every good brawl, Jean Keirschten rested his knuckles lightly against the other man’s. He couldn’t say he was a huge fan of the way he shook. 

Golden eyes narrowed to better take in his friend. 

“Marco?” The usually tanned, happy-go-lucky teenager stood silently, jaw set, his fists clenched. It wasn’t just the pressure of his knuckles against the skin that caused Marco to look pale, Jean noticed. 

“Are you okay?” Hot trails of enraged tears fell down his friend’s cheeks. How Jean knew that’s what they were, he couldn’t say, but hey, he’d known the guy for what? The better part of the semester? You learn things about a guy after being friends for that long. 

“I’m just so sick of it.” Jean blinked. The choked sentiment was almost unperceptively quiet. 

“I know man. Makes my blood boil just remembering that assholes like that exist. Don’t let it get to you.” Eren’s lip split further as he grinned. “Or let it, I’m not against a brawl or two.” 

“You know I’m always up for it! Even if I’m not totally the right person for the job…” That sparked a quiet laugh from the shaking boy. Armin brushed hair from his reddened face. The fight had been just finishing up as he'd managed to run to his friends' sides. He wasn't the most athletic of the squad by any means. 

“Hey, it’s the thought that counts.” When he finally opened his beautiful, watery brown eyes, the emotion that had replaced his anger shone through loud and clear: love. 

‘Thanks guys, it…it means a lot.” Wiping at one eye with a roughed up knuckle, Marco grinned, albeit loosely, but it was there. 

Jean latched onto it. 

“Okay, what’s going on?” 

Marco looked at him in shock. 

“You just jumped into the fray without asking why….? Jean…” 

“What?” He rolled his shoulders. “You never let your hair down. ….Metaphorically.” He added, rewarded by a small snort of laughter from the man at his shoulder who shared a more grown out version of his own undercut disaster of a hairdo. “So hey, if it’s important to you then it’s important to me. That’s how it works.” 

“Dude that’s….Mushy.” Eren finished lamely. Connie’s grin faded a touch. 

“Eren…” Brown eyes flashed from one face to the next as Jean attempted to weed out their unspoken meaning. _What was he not getting here?_

His best friend chuckled lightly, in that way that he had when Jean was missing something obvious. 

“Jean I’m…” Connie and Eren shut up. Marco sighed. “I’m gay, Jean. The guys…they were talking shit and I…I lost it. It just happens way too often to …people like me.”

_Well._ The blond blinked as the information settled into what he already knew about his friend. 

“Sounds like enough of a reason.” He shrugged, deciding against commenting on how the other boys’ shoulders relaxed at his easy acceptance of what must have been a weighty secret. 

“Not that I needed one to back you up, Marco. We’re friends, remember?” A smile teased at the lips beneath the familiar smattering of birthmarks. “Why should you liking dudes make any difference? I’m still going to back you up.” 

_There it is._

Finally, the expression that finally showed through Marco Bodt’s wet cheeks was his genuine, 100% Marco smile. 

“Thanks, Jean.” He shrugged again. 

“Anytime.” A thought occurred to him and it quickly showed on his face. “Wait, since you won’t be dating girls then that means I can actually kick your exes’ asses if they treat you wrong.” 

The boys lost it, their laughs and cackles illuminated the afternoon with a brightness that Jean’s pleased countenance could hardly have achieved alone. 

Although it gave it a decent shot. 

The laughter of his friends and the renewed smile of his peaceful roommate surrounded him in a euphoric haze. Kind of like being high. The way Marco held his shoulders and looked at Jean like he …like he _trusted_ him, that was so much better than the munchie-laced smells that clung to your clothes and got you pulled over.

Not speaking from experience here, of course. 

Although Jean would be lying if he denied the fact that he actually had his best friend’s _blessing_ to wreck some poor motherfuckers in the not-so-distant future added to the delicious taste of his natural hallucinogenic-free rush. 

His wolf of a grin only made their friends laugh harder, as the employees of the café shooed them away from their unfinished drinks and away down the road. Ah well, they’d surely find somewhere else to cause trouble, now that they knew Marco Bodt didn’t pull his punches. 

Not that he’d ever admit it, Jean thought fondly, looking up at his relieved friend who walked lighter and held his head higher now that his dearest friend knew he was ‘out’. 

And Jean wasn’t going anywhere, no matter what. 

If Jean wasn’t so straight, he would have just reached out and held Marco’s hand right then and there, maybe swung it back and forth like two kids relishing their victories after a day of rolling in the mud and kicking rocks. 

Although rock-heads are so much more satisfying to kick around. Jean caught himself joining in the mirth at the thought, his shoulder leaning into that of the slightly taller man’s beside him. 

Marco swayed a little at the unexpected weight, but pushed back just as hard. 

They must have looked like they were drunk, two boys leaning on one another and weaving back and forth across the pavement while the other members of their party looked bruised and bloody and pleased about the fact. 

As the spiced summer air filled Jean Keirschten’s lungs, he rolled his shoulder against his friend’s and felt his grin fade into a soft, contented beam. 

Yeah, they were okay.

They were all okay. 

Even if they looked pretty drunk and had to limp a little to get to the bar.

After all, what else did college students have to worry about in the weeks just before finals?


End file.
